


Jenny Was a Friend of Mine

by StatisticalCats (GorillaMoon)



Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:28:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27307753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GorillaMoon/pseuds/StatisticalCats
Summary: We took a walk that night but it wasn't the sameWe had a fight on the promenade out in the rainShe said she loved me, but she had somewhere to goShe couldn't scream while I held her closeI swore I'd never let her go
Relationships: Jennyanydots/Skimbleshanks (Cats)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	Jenny Was a Friend of Mine

Skimbleshanks’s life was one run by schedules and organization. There was no confusion to be had, everything having its’ time and place. Fitting into proper slots. Everything being as it should be. And if it wasn’t, Skimble was always prepared to set things right.

In his job as a train conductor, he made sure the train was always on schedule, and everything was running as it should. If passengers got unruly, he was ready and able to put a stop to it. If things went _really_ bad, he would swiftly and responsibly summon the police. 

His responsibility and dedication to the job was especially important in these war-time days.

There were no surprises in his life. It was so steady, he could easily foresee any obstacles that could come his way. 

He hadn’t thought Jennyanydots would end up being an obstacle.

He and Jenny had been spending a lot of time together and in Skimble’s carefully plotted life, he was sure the path was leading towards a very fitting marriage. Jenny was just as responsible and meticulous as he was, with a good head and a familiar dedication to her work as a nurse. 

But as the two of them strolled through the park that night on one of their outings, Skimble could tell Jenny had something on her mind. Something that caused a sense of tension to flicker in the air, mixing with the heaviness of upcoming rain. It was tiptoed around with small talk and supposed-to-be-comfortable silences, but as scattered raindrops started to break through the clouds, threatening an end to their walk, Skimble saw a determined shift in Jenny’s expression.

“Skimbleshanks, I have something I need to tell you, before we head back.” she stated firmly.

Her tone gave him pause, and he tried to think of anything wrong that could have happened, and how he could fix it. But his memory turned up nothing that could have caused this heavy tension.

“Skimble… I love you. You know that,” she continued, and he nodded with a small smile. “And.. I _do_ want to see where our relationship will take us, but… lately, I’ve been thinking of my work and what I want to do with it.”

He furrowed his brows in consideration. Was she wanting to transfer to a different hospital? That _could_ be a problem, depending on where she was planning to go, but he was fairly confident he’d be able to work with his job to move to the same area as her. He was mentally going over the logistics of multiple scenarios when she spoke again, putting an abrupt end to his thoughts.

“I’ve joined the army.” It was said so bluntly, as if it was the simplest thing in the world, as if she hadn’t just done what Skimble thought was impossible. Caught him off guard.

He stopped in his tracks, turning to face her. “You’ve what?” he exclaimed, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice.

“I’m going to be an army nurse.” she explained, posture somehow seeming even straighter than usual. That familiar determination was in her eyes, but now it wasn’t as appealing as Skimble used to find it.

“For… for how long?” he stumbled over his words, trying to plot out this unexpected course.

She blinked at him with some confusion and discomfort. “Well, it’s hard to say, isn’t it? They seem to really need nurses. More and more as the war goes on…” she trailed off, and it hit him just where this path of hers could lead. And judging from the look in her eyes, she was fully aware of it as well. And prepared to face it head-on.

But _he_ wasn’t.

“You can’t do that!” he snapped. His mind was racing, paths forming and ending abruptly, over and over, unable to organize and correctly place them.

Her ears twitched angrily and she glared at him. “I can do what I like, without needing your permission! What’s gotten into you?”

Jenny’s independence and strong will were traits Skimble had admired up until this moment. He had found her similar to himself, a perfect partner who could face anything life threw their way. Together. He had been so sure of where his path with Jenny was going.

His jaw clenched and he exhaled loudly. “No, you don’t need my permission but it would have been nice to be given any hint you were considering this before you went and made up your mind! I thought we were _close_ , Jenny, why wouldn’t you tell me you were thinking of this?”

She frowned at him. “I don’t like wasting my time being wishy-washy, you know that. There was no long thinking, I just knew, and I decided. You, of all cats, should know how that feeling of responsibility goes.”

They both fell silent, simply staring at each other in displeasure, as the rain began to fall harder. 

He was the first to give in, shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry, you took my surprise. I couldn’t… I didn’t know what to… how to react.” He paused, lips thinning. “I’m going to miss you, Jenny.” he said softly.

She gave a small sigh and smiled fondly. “I’m going to miss you too, Skimble. But… there _is_ a chance we’ll see each other again!” 

“Yes, there is a chance…” he responded quietly. He locked eyes with her and smiled back, opening his arms in an inviting gesture. 

She accepted the invitation and walked into his outstretched arms, embracing him, blinking a sheen out of her eyes. “I love you, Skimble. I swear I won’t forget you.”

He wrapped his arms around her in return. “I love you too,” he responded, tightening his embrace. “I swear I’ll never let you go.”

Skimbleshanks’s life was run by schedules and organization. It was so organized, he at times seemed to live automatically. Everything plotted out, body making the proper movements, charted by a background layer of his thoughts, as the rest of the layers continued working through different criss-crossing paths of the present and future, ever planning.

Maybe it was this process of mental layers, or the ever changing paths being explored, or even the sound of the raindrops surrounding them, but he never heard Jenny scream before she ended limp in his arms. Maybe she hadn’t screamed at all, and he was just surprised again at expectations not matching up with reality. 

He realized his mistake as his mind became _very_ busy, trying to path out where to go from here. One path insisted he upheld his promise to not let her go but the more logical paths outnumbered that one and he knew there was no way he could safely keep that promise. So, ignoring the loudness from that path, he followed another, easily carrying her, shielded by the darkness and weather. 

He didn’t risk taking her too far, but settled her in a slightly out of the way area in the direction where she would have headed home.

He walked back to his own home, forgetting to even dry off on account of the cacophony still taking place in his head, before grabbing his bottle of scotch and heading into his bedroom.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been a dreary night when they took that walk, hardly anyone else out and about. But he and Jenny _had_ been seeing each other for a while and he really should have been better prepared for the inevitability that the police would end up interested in him. 

But his mind was still so busy and loud as he found himself sitting in an interrogation room, trying to path everything out, but it was all going criss-cross and everything was _wrong_.

There were two police officers in the room with him, an older gray and white tom, Lefecthur, and a younger gray and black striped tom, Munkustrap. Both seemed very determined about their jobs. Skimble never thought he would grow to dislike such dedication as much as he had recently.

“Look,” he sighed, “I don’t know why you think I would have anything to do with this. What motive would I have? Jenny was my friend!”

“Yes,” Lefecthur replied. “Your… friend. We’re aware. Actually, we’ve talked to some other cats, and it would seem that you and Jenny spent quite a lot of time together. Words other than ‘friend’ came up.”

Skimble kept his gaze steady, looking at Lefecthur. “She was my friend.” he stated bluntly.

Silence stretched between them as they seemed to measure each other up. It was the younger officer, Munkustrap, who spoke next. “What do you do at your job, Skimbleshanks? You’re a train conductor, correct?”

Skimble blinked at the change of subject. “Yes, I am. I have a lot of duties. I attend to the passengers’ needs, coordinate the crew… It’s my responsibility to make sure everything runs smoothly.”

Munkustrap nodded, seeming to expect that answer. “And would you say you’re good at your job? At your responsibilities?”

Skimble had to keep his fur from bristling at the question. There was no particular tone to Munkustrap’s query, but it still annoyed the orange tabby to feel as if his capabilities were being doubted.

“Of course I would,” he stated carefully. “I’m very good at keeping everything organized.”

“Organized how?” Lefecthur interjected. 

“I keep things on schedule, make sure everything’s in its correct place, and so on.”

A voice ricocheted in his head, sarcastic and mocking. ‘Ah, yes, you’ve done a fantastic job at that! Who would have thought your definition of making things correct included being a criminal?’ 

A light seemed to enter Lefecthur’s eyes, a light Skimble didn’t like.

“In its correct place…” the older tom repeated, leaning closer in his seat. “Did you know, we found out something interesting earlier in our investigation. Jennyanydots had very recently joined the military. She wasn’t able to go far with that though, obviously.”

Skimble’s ear twitched. “Yes, I had heard about that too.”

Lefecthur kept his gaze locked to Skimble’s eyes. “Do you think the military wasn’t the correct place for Jenny?”  
“I’m not in charge of Jenny, I can’t tell her what to do.” Skimble responded, ignoring the disbelieving huff from the Voice that wouldn’t go away.

Lefecthur narrowed his eyes the slightest bit. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

Skimble sighed. “It… wasn’t a decision I wholly agreed with,” he acquiesced. “But like I said, I can’t tell her what to do.”

That’s how it went, back and forth, for hours. The officers needling, Skimble tiptoeing around his answers, as the Voice in his head got clearer and more talkative. He apparently played his cards right as the officers reluctantly let him go, unable to get anything more out of him, and not having enough legal reason to keep him.

He quieted the Voice with scotch and slept away the emotions of the interrogation. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He returned to work the next day, cautiously optimistic as he woke up to no Voice. He should have known it was too good to be true. As he walked near the train tracks, the Voice, clearer than ever, and now distinctly feminine, seemed to whisper in his ear, “I know what you’re doing here, Skimble.” 

He sighed and glanced to his side. He caught a glimpse of orange and black fur, but it stayed just out of his full view. 

“You think if you just go on working, everything will return to normal,” the Jenny-apparition scolded him. “Solving every problem, everything in its correct spot. But the world doesn’t work that way, Skimble. The world isn’t made up of perfect slots and solutions, doesn’t work on pretty schedules. This war wouldn’t still be going on if life was as perfectly pathed as you believe it to be.”

Skimble scowled and tried to glare at her but she kept on flicking just out of sight. “I’m not daft! I know that! But just because the world is chaos doesn’t mean one shouldn’t be as orderly as possible.”

She laughed mockingly. “Ah, of course! Such order! Your orderliness and perfectly segmented life turned you into a criminal, Skimble. Tell me, in this world of yours, where everything has its slot to fill… where do criminals belong in that equation?”

He hesitated to respond, and he knew she could see it. 

She continued, “Your world was never really about order and perfection for everything and everyone, just for yourself.”

He huffed. “Isn’t that normal? Everyone has plans and paths, I was just better at it than most.”

“Ah, so much better, you thought you should have control over other cats’ paths?” she snapped at him.

He came to an abrupt stop, anger at a peak. “And what sort of path were _you_ taking? One that inevitably leads to _death_ , that’s what! You were going to _die_ out there, Jenny! Far from home and without me!”

“Yes,” she stated bluntly, and suddenly, he could see her clearly, as if she had never gone. “I was willing to give my life for the path I chose. That was _my_ correct place. Giving help when called for. I was dedicated to my slot as a nurse. What about you, Skimble? Are you dedicated to your slot as a criminal?”

He stayed silent, gazing out at the tracks, mind quieter than it had been in a very long time.

“Where do criminals like you belong, Skimbleshanks?”

Skimbleshanks’s life was run by schedules and organization. He knew all the schedules of the trains. And he knew that everything and everyone had their proper place, their proper path. Helpers had their path lined with heroics, love, and remembrance. And cats like him? Well, everyone had their proper path, and perhaps fate would decide his would be lined with remembrance too.

The trains were running right on schedule. Everything in its correct place. Cargo loaded, equipment checked. And Skimble standing tall on the train tracks, his mind finally quiet, as the sound of wheels and whistles grew louder.

**Author's Note:**

> I thought of this while listening to American Murder Song's cover of the song.  
> Lefecthur is an OC of mine.


End file.
